


Terrified

by Kaoru_chibimaster



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Because of course he did, FFXV kinkmeme, Family Feels, Gen, Hugs, noct set his kitchen on fire, non explicit prompt, papa wolf regis, poor Regis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-04 01:15:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13353420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaoru_chibimaster/pseuds/Kaoru_chibimaster
Summary: That was how he felt watching the flames billow out of his son's apartment window and wondering if he was still alive in there.





	Terrified

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for [this prompt](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4398.html?thread=8433198#cmt8433198). Technically a minifill but it covered enough pages to be posted on its own.

There had been scattered papers, broken glass and a flurry of footsteps to the droning sound of a newscaster's voice. Reports strewn about on the floor, discarded and forgotten. Water leaking into the plush carpet in the wake of a shattered vase. None of it mattered. Not when the background noise of the current newscast had slowly leaked into the forefront of Regis' consciousness. All he needed to hear were the words “fire” and “prince” and suddenly the world froze, only to start up again when the camera panned over the flames billowing out of the topmost floor window of a familiar building. Very familiar. Terrifyingly familiar. Everything clicked into place at once and Regis was immediately out of his seat, cane forgotten, knocking over everything on his desk when he bumped into it. He didn’t care. His boy was in danger.

The news had clearly spread throughout the Citadel, judging by the frenzied motion the king was greeted with the moment he left his study. He hadn’t even needed to call for a car. One had been ready for him at the steps, Cor in the drivers seat with twitching fingers and a grim expression. He'd peeled off the moment Regis had closed the door behind him, weaving in between traffic and driving well over the speed limit. He'd gotten them to the complex in a fraction of the time it normally would have taken.

Already, in front if the complex the law enforcement and fire trucks had secured their position. Firemen sprayed their hoses into the open, flaming gape where Noctis' window glass used to be. Still the flames persisted. Regis was near out of his mind with panic at the sight. What if he lost Noctis this time? What if he never got to see his son's face again? Never got to hold him in his arms again? It had taken the restraint of Cor and two other crownsguard to stop him from warping into the apartment. It wouldn’t help, apparently, if Regis warped into the fire and got himself hurt. But see, he didn’t _care_. He'd die a thousand times over if it meant he could save his son. He'd wrestled and fought, and had finally gotten the good sense to phase out of their hands and then…

And then the fire stopped. Instantly.

Puzzled, the firemen turned off the hose. The sound of walkie-talkie crackling as they contacted whoever was inside tasked with getting people out buzzed in Regis' ears. No sign of Noctis, outside or inside. No sign of the previously raging fire. Nothing.

Regis pulled out a sword from his armiger and hurled it at the window, following in a flash of blue and yellow sparks. The move sent a shock of pain down the length of his spine, the Ring burning his finger with the excessive use of magic. He grit his teeth and pushed through the pain. Heaving himself inside, he was greeted with the sight of a charred living room, some areas slightly scorched while others were completely blackened. The curtains were gone, likely up in smoke, the carpet was disgustingly singed, the wall was black and the damage led all the way to the kitchen. Curiously, all of the fire damage was coated in a thin sheet of ice. Even more curious was the sight of a shell shocked fifteen year old standing in the midst of it, hand outstretch and blue eyes wide. His hair was wet and his skin a heated pink, draped in night clothing. His disaster of a kitchen, the blackest of it all, was decorated with the centerpiece display of a melted microwave.

Regis figured he was starting to piece this all together by now. Still, he needed to hear it from his son's mouth. He marched over to the center of the room, grabbing at thin shoulders as he stared the boy down.

“What. Happened.”

Noctis made a familiar face, the sort of face he made when he knew he was guilty of something, and glanced sheepishly between Regis' eyes and the floor.

“Uh…”

Regis didn’t want to hear ‘ums’. He wanted to know why his son had put himself in danger like this. “Noctis.”

“I mean I…I uh, took a shower while I was heating up a burrito…?” he shrugged, gaze now fixed firmly on the floor. Regis had to let this process for a moment. He took a shower while heating up a burrito…and this led to half of his apartment catching fire?

Wait…

“Noct…”

“Yeah?”

“…Did you leave the foil wrapping on?”

“…Yeah?”

Regis…didn’t know what to say. He really didn’t. Except maybe that the gods bless this boy. Bless this boy because damn did he need a better head on his shoulders sometimes.

He started laughing. Noctis stared at him owlishly as he pulled his boy into a hug, cradling Noctis’ head against his neck. Still laughing. His other arm wrapped around that small, fragile frame, clutching into the soft fluffy fabric of his night shirt, trembling in relief. Noctis was alive. He was here in Regis' arms and he was alive. He hadn’t been burned to a crisp in the most unnecessary fire of the century. He hadn’t been choked out by the smoke or found as a splatter on the ground in a botched attempt to warp out of the fire. He was right there, standing awkwardly in Regis' embrace, practically humming with magic from the blizzard spell he'd used in his quick thinking. Regis would commend him for that when he stopped berating him over microwaving metals and eating way too late at night.

“Sooo…does this mean I’m not in trouble?” he asked after a moment of silently listening to Regis' laughter die down.

“Hell no.” Noctis cringed at the tone of Regis' voice. “I've half a mind to move you right back into the Citadel after this. Do you have any idea of the heart attack you nearly gave me? I ought to ground you for the rest of your life!”

“Dad…”

“You can start by cleaning this mess up. And then you can go over with Ignis what does and doesn’t go into a microwave. Which can start right about now, as I’m certain that's his voice I hear calling out to you.”

Surely enough, a number of voices called out 'Highness' from the hallways outside of the apartment, one of them distinctly belonging to the young Chamberlain. Regis would be certain to tell him not to help clean. He'd probably do it anyway.

Sighing, Regis finally released Noctis, raising an eyebrow at him as he huffed and pouted over his punishment. He didn’t protest however, as he dragged his feet over to his supply closet and pulled out a mop. Regis sat on the smoky couch, glad to give his knee some rest. He'd go back to the Citadel eventually. In the meantime, he needed to be there with his son. He needed to reassure himself that his son was still there. He needed to see Noctis with his own eyes, to make sure he was alright. Regis would have so little time with his boy already…he refused to have any more of that precious time taken from him. He refused to watch Noctis get hurt ever again.


End file.
